A Tale of Dragonfire
by ManualPuppy
Summary: "For the first time in over fifty years, the fire goes out in the small house East of Bree." Hunter Kali leaves the home she has made for herself to take part in the quest for Erebor. Mahal save her from the stubbornness of dwarves. FilixOC
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I have no claim to anything Middle Earth or Tolkien related.**

A Tale of Dragonfire.

Bree is a town of hunters. The tall grass of the hills and meadows that surround the place on all sides are full of rabbits, in the Old Forest wild deer and boar roam and, in the height of summer, the wide, fast paced Brandywine river to the West changes and becomes tranquil, meandering its way through the land, its banks and the space between packed fit to burst with the sound of ducks, geese and all manner of waterfowl - plump and delicious - ducking and bobbing beneath the water's surface chattering to each other in birdspeak as they go, while fat silver fish move lazily through the clear water nibbling at green moss which grows on the riverbed rocks, practically begging to be caught.

There is a little house about an hours journey East from the town itself, tucked away only just out of sight to the North of the East - West Road, behind some rather magnificent, rather ancient oak trees. So old they are that they must have lived even when this place, and most others, was at war, hundreds of years ago. The house is also ancient, and always seems to have soft plumes of smoke rising from the chimney - even in summer , according to those old enough to remember, smoke has been coming from that chimney every day for nearly 50 years.

This ancient house and fire smoke belongs to Hunter Kali.

Amongst the citizens of Bree she is known for being a good, if not occasionally aloof, neighbour. Her snares are some of the best in the land, she has impeccable aim with a bow, she sells her meat for a fair price and her garden grows the sweetest smelling herbs for miles around. More often than not in the winter months her little front room is a last stop before the final push home for many, if not all, of the hunters returning from catching rabbits in the Weather Hills. There were many a victim of a hunting accident (an arrow finding the wrong target, a trap not seen and set off by a heavy boot, or wolves starved enough to fight for the hunters for their kill) that would not have made it home were it not for her and the secrets of her sweet smelling garden. She was a distant but ever present part of the town life.

Our journey with her begins on a day in mid May. The wonderful aromas of her garden mixed with the heavy scent of grass have driven her outside to sit in the baking sunshine. For a while she tried to busy herself with work around the exterior of house, cleaning the weeds and climbing plants from her well and drawing up water for the pot that always sits over the fire in her home, there are a thousand and one things she should be doing - not least of which checking the traps she set the morning before - but she cannot for long deny the desire to sit and bathe in the light and simply do nothing at all.

It is like this that the grey bearded, robed and hatted gentleman finds her, sprawled out in a patch half in, half out of the shade, too lazy even to move as sun shifts past the point of noon and the shadows from the oaks edge closer and cover her face. She has removed her boots and wriggles her toes in the cool grass. He stands, leaning on his old wooden staff, for a few moments before she opens one eye. She is hardly surprised to have a visitor, though guests before the early evening are a rarity.

"Greetings, stranger" she says, sitting up and brushing grass from the palms of her hands. "I'm afraid you've found me rather at odds, I wasn't expecting company so early in the day. Please join me if you wish sir, I may not have a chair but the sun is warm and the grass is soft." She smiles at the man, who continues to scrutinise her through his thick brows.

Hunter Kali is built well, and if you hadn't known or been told its highly unlikely that you would have guessed she were a dwarf, though in retrospect she is far too short to be of the race of men. The skin on her face is pale and smooth, without even the shadow of the thick beard dwarven maidens are known for. Equally, her long brown hair is not styled as elaborately as that of her kin normally is, instead tied back into a practical bun at the back of her head with only a few braids, decorated with wooden beads of grey ash and tiny silver feathers. Her face is not as strong or heavy as you would have expected (if you knew many of Mahal's folk at least), but delicate and chiseled with wide blue eyes and soft, full lips. Her cheekbones are strong, as is her jaw, giving her face a square appearance broken slightly by her small, pointed chin, which all together gives her a strange, but not unpleasant, childlike quality, of course she is still very young for a dwarf.

She is of a reasonably stocky build, but still lean and her shoulders and legs wears well the muscle tone that comes from manual labour and long treks, probably tracking some wild animal. All in all the old man is pleased with what he sees. "Sir?" This time her voice breaks through his concentration. She remains seated, with her legs crossed and her hands daintily folded in her lap.

"A very kind offer" his voice is mucn kinder and friendlier than she imagined it would be. "I wonder if, however, we might enter your charming home for a few moments? I would very much like to speak with you, where unwanted ears and eyes cannot pry" Hunter Kali chews her lip for a moment, weighing up the dangers of allowing the stranger into her home. After a few moments thought she makes her decision.

"Well then, my friend" she pulls herself up and brushes blades of grass from her soft leather trousers "you have come out of your way to visit my home and I am failing already in my duties as a host. Please come through and let us enjoy together a small sip of wine" she follows him into her home and cannot help, as she closes the door behind them, but to peer into the thickets, searching for those prying eyes of which he spoke.


	2. Chapter 2

**More disclaimers: I checked my bank account for royalties, guess I still don't own the Hobbit or any of Tolkiens works.**

Thank you for both of my lovely reviews, I'm unbelievably pleased that people are reacting so well to my massive fangirling. The pace of this chapter is much quicker than I would have liked but I'm quite eager to get this story moving and I'm sure you all are too. A whole chapter of sitting in Kali's kitchen chatting would have been a bit self indulgent I think, as much fun as it would have been for me to write.

A Tale of Dragonfire

Wisps of smoke float through the warm air. The few that do not follow their siblings on their way out through the chimney stack hug close to the wood beamed ceiling of the little kitchen that serves also as an area for entertaining guests, wrapping themselves round bundles of dried herbs like the fingers of ghosts and milking from them their aromas. Sweet mixes with bitter mixes with spicy and it is not had to imagine that every room of the house is filled with these pleasing smells.

Despite the heat outside the fire still roars as strong as it would in midwinter, licking at the already ash blackened rocks of the hearth. All the windows in the room have been opened to help deal with the heat, though no attempt has been made to stifle the blaze and it has been left to feed on thick, dry logs.

Above the fire hang two cooking pots, one huge, well used and dented from which the mouth watering scents of roasting meat waft while the other is small and smoke blackened, from its lip strange, medical smells can occasionally be detected, as though a healers bag has been opened, closed and opened once again. Gandalf notices with interest the complex contraption they both sit on, designed to allow the pots to be spun away from the flames and lifted higher or dropped lower then locked in place at the lightest touch, in order to give the user more control over the temperature of the contents. Like scales the larger pot hangs lower, bathed almost completely in the flames while the smaller rests much higher, so only the flickering tips caress the base, keeping the contents steaming but never boiling.

His host sets a platter of fresh bread, strawberries from her garden and thin slices of cured venison on the ancient oak dining table before her unexpected guest. She takes two glasses from an old wooden cupboard and fills them from a barrel in the darkest corner of the kitchen. The home made wine is deep crimson and the delicious aromas of blackberry, cherry and melon waft from the tap. She returns to the table with the offering.

"You have made a fine life for yourself out here, Kalliste, daughter of Tharye" he says as she takes her seat across from him. The old man seems pleased at her momentary surprise, however quickly she tries to hide it.

"Please friend, it is more comfortable for me to be referred to as Kali. Though there are some of those in these parts who choose to call me Hunter Kali." It was a great honour amongst those who had made a living from those lands for generations to be called Hunter, and it was something Kali very much desired to boast about.

Her guest seems amused, as though he could see her vanity painted clearly on her face. "How proud you must be, and how far you have come since the babe in arms I last saw seventy years ago. I am Gandalf. I hope that you remember at least my name, even if you were too young before to recognise now the face that goes with it"

"Gandalf?" A look of recognition graces her eyes and her smile is suddenly tainted with a touch of melancholy. "Father would tell me tales about you when I was a child" she pauses momentary and laughs "he did always say I would meet you eventually"

"And you now have." There is a brief flash of laughter in his eyes before he becomes serious again

"I'm afraid, however, that I did not come here simply to meet the daughter of an old friend, it was my hope to hire you" he leans forward in the chair, his long beard almost covering his folded hands. "There is a group of dwarves meeting soon in the Shire, in the town of Hobbiton. They asked for your father, and I, in searching for him, was greatly saddened to hear of his passing. I would like to request your presence in his stead."

Kali rises. She has only taken a few sips from her glass but makes a show of refilling it none the less, if only to give her hands something to do while her mind works. "Friend, I am not my father. There are no dwarves in this land who would take my bow over his axe, even if I had been trained for warfare."

"Warriors they have, whether they have need of them or not" said the wizard, eyes fixed on her back. "Perhaps what they need truly now is a hunter. Warriors alone in the wild starve, after all" if his desired effect was to make Kali laugh then he was successful. His words ring with more than a pinch of truth.

"Your father would have eagerly leapt at the chance to go. He would want you to go now as he cannot" she stiffens slightly, but not at the words he has said, rather in anticipation of the ones he is about to. "This is the quest to reclaim Erebor"

* * *

A few days later Kali finds herself bidding goodbye to the team of hunters she considers her friends. She had taken care to show and explain to them the use of every herb in her garden and what remains of the rarer ones (most of which she carries with her in neat bundles in the pack slung across her back) in their carefully marked pots or hung dried from the beams in her kitchen.

"Take care of each other" she tells them, shaking each ones hand with a smile. She checks the saddle bags on the pony they have bought for her, before turning to the leader of the small group.

Samuel, who holds the key to the little house in the palm of his scarred hand, nods to her. "We will keep your fire lit, little Hunter" she takes a moment to look at him and is surprised by what she sees.

There was a time (though now she comes to think of it it was a long time ago) when he and she appeared to be about the same age, when he taught her to move through the woods and leave no trace of her passing. When they carved fishing poles together and laughed by the river banks.

The life of man is lived much quicker than that of dwarves, the duties of the world age them faster and Kali had never before noticed that his face shows the harsh passage of the years so much more prominently than hers. The thick hairs on his head and in his beard are grey and his face is marked with deep wrinkles, such a contrast to her smooth, youthful skin and bright eyes. It was obvious to her now that her friends could never have truly believed that she was of their race, though they had never mentioned their suspicions to her.

"Keep it lit, old friend. I may have need of it yet" alone amongst them he is treated to a rare hug. It strikes her as strange that it is only in leaving that she sees how important her presence was to the hunters of Bree, how grateful they were for the smoke from her chimney, promising the warmth of the fire and the words of a friend after a cold and fruitless day in the wilds. How they valued not only her help but her company. And how she valued theirs.

She sets off South and West towards the great road that ran through unfriendly mountain passes, deep and hostile woods, past lakes and rivers that would freeze you to the bone and steal your last breath, before finally passing through the peaceful lands of her home. As she reaches the old stone road that will lead her to the Shire she halts her pony's slow trot and turns in the saddle to look back. Soft curls of smoke can barely be seen between the branches of the great oaks, a sign to all that pass that here there is a place of safety. With a smile and a gentle squeeze of her knees she hastens the pony onward.

She passes through Bree and a few of the townspeople turn to wave at her as she goes. She can only assume that Samuel and the others have not informed them of her leaving, for they treat her in the same manner they do when she passes on her way to the river to fish. A few children run behind her pony, more for something to chase than for her attention, few of them know her as anything more than a face at the market or a shoulder to brush past in the streets, just another adult to be an obstacle in a race.

From Bree it is a few hours travel to the borders of the Shire and, as she left much later than she intended, night has long since fallen by the time she arrives in the silent, sleeping streets of Hobbiton. Every window as far as the eye can see is dark, curtains drawn to keep the night from creeping in. A sense of great peace covers the valley like a fog.

Every window, that is, but one. In Bag End, well known as the finest house in all Hobbiton, a home of respectable persons who most certainly do not stay up past bedtime merrymaking, the windows are bright and dancing in their frames from the racket within. Laughter and snatches of song can be heard from six doors down. In the perfect little front garden twelve ponies, eleven equipped to ride and one laden with packs, are tied up and graze contently on the well tended flower beds.

Kali jumps down from her own mount and the tired pony happily joins the others in the decimation of the garden, barely even acknowledging her as she ties him to the fence with the rest of them. She is struck by a sudden feeling of great nervousness, for it has been a very long time since she last was in the company of dwarves.

She stalls at the door, examining the rune carved into the paintwork. "_Burglar wants a good job. Plenty of excitement and reasonable reward_" For no reason and the briefest of moments she almost considers leaving.

A stranger, who without her heed has approached behind her, notices this. He watches her knock three times decisively upon the door before making his presence known to her.

"I did not invite you here, stranger" the voice is not particularly unkind but still Kali starts and turns to face him, eyes growing wide. While she does not know him from her personal experiences, his face is one she recognises from tales and he wears the rings of the line of Durin.

"My King" she gasps, bowing down so low her loose braids of hair brush against the ground "I am Hunter Kali, Daughter of Tharye. I was asked here by Gandalf in my fathers stead"

Thorin looks at her. She is, in his eyes, too scrawny for a dwarf, skinny and boney like a daughter of men and with not even a hint of hair gracing her chin. He shook his head, she would be no good in battle, those frail arms couldn't even swing a sword, let alone an axe.

"And where is your father? Without undue insult the summons I sent requested a warrior, not a child" with her head bowed in the position of respect, he cannot see the sadness in her eyes, and before she is given a chance to answer him the door swings open, framing the grey wizard against the light, his back bent uncomfortably against the ceiling.

"Gandalf" The King Under The Mountain turns away from her, a sign she takes to mean that for now she is safe from his scrutiny. "I thought you said this place would be easy to find, I lost my way. Twice" She follows him in, receiving a few curious looks from the dwarves inside, who quickly lose interest, for they, as one, turn to hear what their King has to say.


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm disclaiming it. All of it. None of it belongs to me. I'm sorry, it just looked so fun to play with *tears of shame* but seriously, all of it belongs to the Tolkien family. **

Three chapters in three days! I am doing well! Or maybe its my desperate desire to not disappoint you two lovely people who keep reviewing me. You're the best. You can have my left over birthday cake. It's not stale, I had some for dinner about 10 minutes ago. But I digress. Story time!

A Tale of Dragonfire

The hobbit hole is warm and smells pleasant. And, although of course she isn't (and she is all too aware that this marvellous little house makes her own look shabby and poorly maintained by comparison), in the low light of the dining room our little Hunter might be almost convinced that she were home at her own table listening to her friends laugh at each other's overly embellished tales.

Instead, Kali sits in silence while the dwarves around her argue (thirteen angry voices all competing to be heard, what noise they make!). She had noticed a while ago that the hobbit, Mr Baggins, who is as much the reason for their rowing as she, hovers on the edge of the group, as out of place and mute as herself and tried a few times already to catch his eye and smile as a sign of camaraderie, but his attention is absorbed by the great wizard who, without justification in the eyes of the halfling, argues their case.

Eventually, so sick of speaking and not being heard, the wizard rises from his chair, his shadow growing huge and formidable behind him "Enough! If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar then a burglar he is! As for the girl, Thorin Oakenshield, do not be so arrogant as to presume that you will not need a hunter by journey's end!"

He sits again, shadow sinking back to a more usual length, confident that he now has the attention of all. "Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose, and while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of Dwarf, the scent of a hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives as a distinct advantage." With that said he gestures to Kali, who up until now had been largely ignored, other than when they protest that she could not possibly be of any help "And you all know, or at least can guess, as well as I that past the edge of the Wild towns, and people at all for that matter, are few and far between. How do you intend to feed a dozen dwarves - more than a few of whom have appetites insatiable by even the best stocked pantry in all Hobbiton - on just the rations you can carry with you?" A few dwarves, mostly Bombur with his vast belly, looked slightly insulted, but for once none decided to interrupt the wizard.

"You asked me to find the the final members of this company, and I've chosen mister Baggins and lady Kalliste." (Kali frowns at the use of her full name, remembering that she had already once corrected the wizard) "There's a lot more to both of them than appearances suggest, and they've got a great deal more to offer than any of you know. Including themselves. You must trust me on this"

Thorin's eyes pass from the hobbit to the dwarf girl. The expression on his face is not best pleased, but even the most stubborn of men, and kings for that matter, should know well not to seek the council of wizards and then swiftly ignore it. "Very well, we shall do this your way" he turns to Balin while the halfling still weakly protests "give them the contracts"

As Mr Baggins reads out loud the contract, which Kali has only skimmed over briefly, she stares a Gandalf, trying to make eye contact with that elusive wizard. But he avoids her gaze, probably knowing full well that she is just as pleased with the situation at hand as Thorin. Still attempting to attract the wizard's attention, she is vaguely aware of a conversation going on around her, and though she doesn't know what was said she sees the hobbit faint.

Gandalf lifts the little hobbit as though he weighed nothing and carries him through to the well kept living room, setting him down on a grand armchair by the fire. Most of the dwarves follow behind him, relatively subdued for once but still chattering and laughing amongst themselves, all apparently very proud of Bofur for his efforts to upset the poor little man. Kali finds herself alone, wondering if perhaps the others left a bite to eat anywhere in the building as she has left all her food tied to the pony outside and her stomach is beginning to growl.

Except, she notices after a while, she is not alone. Two dwarves remain in the room, one blonde head and one dark head bowed together as they whisper in Khuzdul. Presently the blonde head rises to meet her gaze and his piercing blue eyes inspect her with - what appears to her to be - great seriousness. He mutters again to his dark haired companion who shakes his head and answers, and while she cannot hear his words they are said with anger in his tone.

Kali feels something almost like anger bubbling up inside of her stomach also, sick and tired as she is of dwarves and men sizing her up, judging her worth before they even bother to ask her name. Her face becomes hot and flushed with a mixture of shame and rage.

She is trying to gather up her pride and deny her tongue the urge to say something witty and cutting (and well she does, as in her current state she can't think of anything good to say) when the dark head lifts also and the handsome young owner smiles and gestures her closer. Cautiously, like a nervous new hunter approaching a wild boar he suspects may just be faking death that could rise and charge at any moment, she draws nearer. Once she is close enough the two stand to greet her.

"Kili" the younger, darker says, seeming unable to contain his excitement.

"Fili" adds the blonde, "at your service" they chime in unison, bowing as one. Kali can't help but laugh, Kili is beaming and it is obvious that Fili only does this for his younger brother's (she guesses) benefit.

"Kali, Daughter of Tharye at yours" she answers, mirroring their bow.

"You use a bow" Kili exclaims with joy. Kali had seen a bow with the rest of the weapons belonging to the dwarves and understands now why the dark haired youngster is so excited. Archers are rare amongst dwarves, and those lacking in a beard rarer still. Kili must have felt that he had found a kindred spirit. "May I see it?" Like most, she was not entirely pleased with the idea of someone else touching her weapons, but the look of pleasure on his face is difficult to refuse.

"Of course" trying to act as though she doesn't mind at all she gestures to where it has been left, slung over the back of the chair on which she sat. "Please be careful!" Kili is pulling arrows from her quiver and passionately pointing out their similarities and differences with his own, though in truth there is little comparison to be made as his were forged recently by skilled smiths and hers are old, recovered from her prey and used many times, with new shafts hand whittled by her as and when they needed replacing. The heads of them are quite magnificent, however, hard steel with evil looking barbs designed to do as much damage coming out as going in. At one point, however many years ago, they must have cost someone a pretty penny.

"I apologise for offending you" Kali turns, so concerned was she with the other's heavy handed treatment of her prized possessions that she had quite forgotten about Fili.

"To what do you refer, friend?" She answers, keeping her tone light but narrowing her eyes. She had not heard a slight from him, but if he felt the need to apologise then something must have been said.

"I made a comment to my brother and saw your reaction" he looks sufficiently ashamed of himself "I called bows the weapon of choice for elves and cowards" (she realises now that thag comment must have beem what irritated his brother before they had invited her closer)

Kali opens her mouth and closes it again. She cannot think of anything to say in defence of her chosen weaponry, but luckily is distracted from having to wrack her mind for an answer by Kili, who has taken her bow and stares at it with a mixture of desire and awe.

The only item of true beauty she owns, it stands nearly as tall as her and the supple, pale yew has been sanded and oiled until it gleams, shining nearly as bright as the silver caps (newly polished, normally she leaves them tarnished so their glint would not be spotted by the sharp eyes of her prey) which hold the silken bowstring in place. The bleached white leather grip is worn but well maintain, and Kali has taken care to re-stain the swirls of blue, painted on the leather by some unknown brush generations ago, every time they become worn away by her hands. So smoothly the bow finds its perfect place in her palms, so easily it finds it target, after nearly sixty years of use Kali had begun to think of it as an extension of her arm.

"How did you come by this?" He asks, voice full of wonder.

"Couldn't say, friend. I believe it was a gift from my father, though I cannot remember a time that I did not have it" she grins at him, it was rare that anything she owned inspired such reverence in people "it's a good thing I never grew particularly tall, is it not?" The longbow, which for her was the perfect height, does not even reach Kili's shoulder and she can see the disappointment in his eyes that he would never get a chance to shoot with it.

From the living room and down the hallway the sound of humming rolls, like a deep, warm wave. Kali feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and Kili, as if in a trance, presses her bow into her hands before following Fili towards the music.

She arrives shortly after the brothers, in time to hear Thorin's deep voice begin to voice a tune that feels so eerily familiar to her, like looking into the face of an old friend after many years. As the others join the chorus she is surprised hear her own voice accompany them, for she knows this song. The song that makes her long for the cold stone and deep passages of Erebor, a home she had never known.

_The pines were roaring on the height_

_the winds were moaning in the night_

_the fire was red_

_it flaming spread_

_the trees like torches blazed with light_


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Still isn't mine (sad face)**

Hello hello :) I had every intention of updating yesterday but got massively distracted by the need to celebrate my friend finally quitting her terrible job and then spent all today writing the ending before finally remembering to finish this chapter. Anywho, I apologise, this isn't quite up to the standard I would have liked but I've rewritten it four times now and unfortunately this is as good as it gets.

A Tale of Dragonfire

The next morning dawns bright and, after a decent night's sleep in master Bilbo's armchair, our little Kali's spirits are high as she sets off with the rest of the dwarves. For the most of the day's journey she rides with the two prince brothers, feeling at least slightly closer to them than the others after the events of the night before.

The lion's share of the conversation is between her and Kili, comparing and arguing the merits of longbow over short and admiring each others form. He lends her his arrows (for he has many more than she and senses her attachment to each one) and they take pot shots at birds flying overhead. Despite having to adjust to the weight difference between her arrows and his, both Kali and Kili manage to take down a fat partridge each as they flee with a small group that their ponies heavy steps disturb from the tall grass in passing.

Kali wonders if the others will wait while she claims the kill, but they are moving fast and she knows that by the time she catches their attention she would have lost sight of the carcasses. The young blonde prince sees her disappointment and, before she knows it, he is jumping smartly from his pony's saddle, collecting the birds in one large hand and, jogging to keep up with his mounts quick pace, swinging himself back onto the saddle. Kali laughs and claps her hands, impressed by the speed and grace she would never have expected from him, and he bows his head with a grin before tossing her one of the bodies to dress as they ride.

"My brother is something of a show off" whispers Kili, with every intention of Fili hearing. "And he never did like to see a young lady disappointed"

"Or perfectly good meat go to the scavengers," Fili laughs "though perhaps you should prepare the bird, brother. My 'showing off' has quite exhausted me" he moves to throw the bird at Kili who urges his pony forward.

"No, no brother, I would never dream of stealing your glory" he throws over his shoulder as he catches up with their uncle at the front of the group, leaving Kali alone with Fili.

Unsure of what to say without the enthusiastic youth at her side, Kali opts instead to ready the bird for consumption, tearing feathers from its breast plate and gutting the creature in one quick motion (her knife is of shining steel and evil, serrated edges, much more fit, in Fili's eyes, for a dwarf than the elvish-looking longbow) before packing it tightly with handfuls of dry grass and hanging it from a loop in her saddle bag. He attempts to copy, though his method is much messier than hers. He catches her watching with a smile and returns it "It is not as easy as you make it look" he admits and she laughs again.

"You have not done as badly as you think, friend. Next time, though, you might find it easier to start here..." she leans over and her dark hair blows in his face, quite distracting him from what she says next (though he cannot be held too much to blame for this, in the spring months when her larder is full Kali finds time to make soaps scented with wild apple and we can only assume that her hair smells much more pleasing than the sweaty leather and pony odours the young prince has grown accustom to in his travels) "... then when we reach the river we can remove the grass and wash the cavity ready for cooking." She leans back to her own saddle and, seeing the expression on his face, laughs again. "You haven't been listening to a single word I have said, have you princeling?"

Luckily for him Kili comes, unintentionally, to his brother's aid. Judging that enough time has passed for the birds to be suitably prepared and his help with the unpleasant task to not be needed he waits a little way ahead for them. "Fili! Kali!" They both look up, Fili glad of the distraction while Kali is more than a little disappointed that the tormenting of the young prince has come to an end so soon. "The others are placing bets on whether or not the hobbit will come! Òin is offering double your wager back should he follow before nightfall" this peaks the interest of Kali, who nurses a shameful love of all things gambling, nurtured by winter evenings spent playing card games by the fire and deer stalking trips made exciting by a few coins exchanging hands.

They quicken their pace and join the others just as the last of the bets are being taken. Unable to refuse the generous odds, Kali hands over a substantial quantity of money in the hobbit's favour, and finds herself to be one of the few (with only the company of Gandalf and Òin himself) who does. The money is given to Nori for safe keeping, as he has no desire to place a bet himself. Thorin, who rides still at the front of the troupe, neither places a bet nor acknowledges that the others have, simply staring at the road ahead with great seriousness as he has since they left.

For a while Kali rides with all the dwarves, learning their names and relations (Bombur, who takes the bird from Fili and finishes dressing it in much the same way Kali did, is brother to Bofur and cousin to Bifur. Balin, with the white beard and kind eyes, is brother to Dwalin, with the bald, tattooed head and gigantic axe. Nori, Dori and Ori are all brothers, likewise Gloin and Òin) and laughing at their jokes. They are more open to her today than they were the night before, the promise of fresh meat for their supper cheering them greatly.

It is approaching noon and Kali is just beginning to worry that perhaps she will lose the wager when, crashing through the trees down shortcuts and rabbit paths he must have learnt from years of wandering this land, Bilbo emerges from the woods, panting and waving a slip of paper in his hand.

"Wait, wait!" He calls, and they halt. Bent almost double he thrusts the contract at Balin, who takes it and pulls a pair of glasses from beneath his cloak. "I signed it" the young hobbit beams with pride, and after a few moments reading Balin nods in approval.

" Everything appears to be in order." Even Thorin, who for most of the day has shown interest in nothing, has turned to watch the exchange "Welcome, mister Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield."

The king grunts and turns back to the road. "Give him a pony" he says, before setting off again without waiting for the others. The hobbit tries to protest but is lifted against his will by Fili and Kili onto the saddle of the spare pony who had, until now, been following behind Gloin and his ride. Unhappy with the situation he rides between Gandalf and Kali with the two brothers ahead of them, who seem so enthralled in conversation Kali feels unwilling to force her company upon them and instead chooses to chat with Bilbo, trying her best to cheer him on as he obviously feels he deserves.

"Congratulations, mister Baggins" she says with a smile "am I correct in guessing that this is your first trip away from home?"

"Well, I go on a lot of walking holidays miss Kalliste" he mutters shyly "I once made it all the way to Frogmorton..."

She laughs and resists the urge to ruffle his curls "Don't be ashamed to say it is, my little friend, this journey will be my furthest from home also. And please call me Kali. Or Hunter. Or anything of your choosing, I would even prefer you refer to me as orc-scum than with the age such formality suggests" she succeeds in bringing a smile to the hobbit's face and they chat all the way to the Brandywine, where the travelling party stops briefly to wash the meat in the clear waters before continuing onwards through Bree.

Once they pass the town Nori begins to pass out the winnings to the few that won the wager made earlier in the day. Kali catches the money bag tossed towards her easily. Bilbo, curious about the large amounts of money changing hands, turns to Gandalf "What's that about?"

The wizard's eyes twinkle with merriment and he removes his pipe from his mouth "Oh, they took wagers on whether or not you'd turn up." He returns the pipe to his lips but swiftly removes it again to add "Most of them bet that you wouldn't."

"Oh" Kali's new little friend looks at her and she offers him only a knowing smirk. "And what did you think?" He asks of the old man.

Gandalf stalls for a moment, and deftly catches the bag that sails through the air towards him. "My dear fellow, I never doubted you for a second"

Kali slows, missing the rest of the conversation. She has seen the oaks that hide her home from the road and, she is almost certain, the briefest glimpse of a familiar head of grey hair between them. She raises her hand in a quick salute, in case any old friends might be watching, before speeding her pony to a trot.

Casting one last glance behind her she notes with approval that smoke still rises from between the trees.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I own none of Tolkien's work, nor do I make any profit from fanfiction, I do this for fun**.

Hello everybody :) I must admit before we go on that I wrote this chapter more for the fun of it than anything else, as well as to give me a bit of time to fully decide what I want to happen in the next chapter. I've been a bit slack with this whole linear storytelling malarkey today (I've already written the last three chapters and the epilouge and I haven't even reached Rivendale yet, priorities are desperately needed I think)

One of my gorgeous new reviewers (though not, obviously, as ravishing as my original reviewers. Sorry new guys, I help manage a pub for a living and know very well that regulars get preferential treatment), river, made a very good point about Kali's longbow that I had hoped no one would notice for a while yet. I won't spoiler my own story but please trust me when I say there is method to my madness which, I hope, will all make sense come the end.

I think that's everything said that needs to be said, so lets get back to the reason we're all here!

A Tale of Dragonfire

The next morning, after an uncomfortable night upon the hill side (Kali for one woke more than once, convinced each time that something or someone would be stood over her), the group sets off again. But the high spirits and jolly nature of the day before are not quick to return, from the very moment the ponies are packed and ready to leave the skies open and fat raindrops fall, soaking everyone to the bone. This continues well into the late afternoon, when they come across an old stone bridge over a swollen river.

Most grumble and complain as their ponies make their nervous way across, hooves sliding as the riders urge the unwilling mounts onwards, but to Kali the rain is friend, a gift from nature to hunters. She tries to explain this to Fili and Kili, whos' moaning has almost deafened her to the sounds of wildlife around them. "If we were granted a chance to hunt for deer we couldn't ask for a better day" she insists. "Rain is forgiving. Most game have sensitive ears and keen noses, but listen now and tell me what you hear" The brothers obey for a few seconds.

"Dori complaining" answers Fili eventually, drawing a smile from Kali's lips.

"Well yes, I will let you have that one, o my uneducated and impertinent prince" she says "but if, Mahal forbid, he were to fall silent for a few moments" this comment earns her a laugh from the brothers and from Gloin, who rides close enough behind them to hear her speak "you would hear nothing that cannot be explained away by rain. It snaps twigs and rustles leaves, it bends branches and creates strange echos. It also, and you would do well to remember this, as you never know when you are being followed, washes away tracks and scent from your path."

* * *

You and I know her words are true, we know that not nearly far enough behind them a great pale Orc, who rides astride a white Warg, grinds his terrible teeth and contorts his terrible face with frustration as the pack of evil beasts snort and sniff their way around the wet rock where, earlier this very day, the company had made camp, unable to find a scent trail strong enough to follow.

Azog the Defiler, chiefest and most monstrous of the Gundabad, looks to where the sun had risen earlier, behind the thick clouds. "East" he growls in the hideous dark tongue of the Orcs "if the one we seek is truly Durin - scum then East he is travelling. We will cut through the woods and meet them at the Last Bridge" (which I know, and now you do too, to be the bridge our friends have just crossed). The others seem less than pleased with this order, for already they feel too close to the home of elf - scum and know all too well the bite of their swords and the sting of their arrows, but they also know better than to question Azog when it comes to the dwarf who took his arm.

And, were it not for the hours wasted upon that hillside attempting to track the company, the Warg pack would have most likely have met them there as they tried to cross and our tale would be a much different, shorter, one. But as Kali said before, rain is an unexpected ally and thankfully the Orcs will not come across them until past the Last Bridge, and the Trollshaws beyond, when they find themselves in the presence of friends.

* * *

The rain lets off as the light begins to die and the sodden company dismounts near the ruins of an old farmhouse. Fili and Kili are ordered away to tend to the ponies and Kali, with nothing else to do, follows the king and the wizard into the skeleton that remains of the house.

Gandalf stands for a while and stares up at the ruins of the building, and the defensive stance he has taken makes Kali feel uncomfortable and uneasy. "A farmer and his family used to live here" he mutters, eyes narrowed. "I think it would be wiser to move on" there was something in the intensity of his voice that forces her to agree. "We could make for the Hidden Valley" Thorin's face becomes thunderous at the mere suggestion.

Kali, not willing to stand awkwardly on the edge of the argument that is obviously brewing between the two of them, walks away to try and find a place where she might be of some help.

A strong breeze from between the trees brings an unknown and unpleasant aroma to the attention of her keen nose, so awful it is that it makes her gag and sneeze at the same time. She looks around for someone to tell, though in truth she is not sure of what to tell them. Besides, as official hunter of the group, surely the task of 'investigating unexpected and revolting smells' falls to her? Either way, it would give her something to do beside stand around avoiding arguments she has no stake in.

She collects her bow and arrows from her pony and takes a moment to reassure the brothers who watch over them that she will be back soon. Night is falling fast and the two argue that one at least should accompany her, but she knows she will move slower and with less stealth if they do. By the time they give in to her argument she has already lost the light, but she sets off regardless. Once in the woods, Kali is actually quite glad to be away from the other dwarves and amongst the trees, listening to the water drip from the leaves. As much as she finds their company palatable, the noise they make is like nothing she has ever experienced before and she does occasionally miss the silence.

That's another good thing about the rain, she thinks to herself, how it softens the ground, lessening the sounds of her footsteps until not even she can hear them. She moves silently and slowly, feeling almost completely at peace.

The moon rises, a waning full, offering some light even though it is pale and full of unfamiliar shadows. She begins to wonder if perhaps there is nothing to find at all and considers making her way back to the camp before the food is gone when the smell hits her again, completely wiping all thoughts of a meal from her mind. She must be drawing closer now for the stench is nearly overpowering, as though it were physically reaching down her throat and turning her stomach. She crouches back into the dark and, pulling her collar over her mouth and nose to both muffle the sound of her breathing and lessen the smell, makes her way towards the source.

Up in the most shaded place in the forest, under the shadows of the hills and trees, she finds the cave responsible for the noxious aroma (it is so dark and the smell becomes so pungent the closer she gets that it is almost impossible to find the entrance, which could in this light be mistaken for a slightly deeper shadow, and she walks past more than a few times) and while its inhabitants are no where to be found, a few seconds searching by the moonlight turns up three sets of huge, human-like footprints. Kali stares at them for a while, her mind trying to make sense of the information presented to her. Empty farmhouse, hideous smells, giant, humanoid footprints, moves at night...

"Oh" she mutters, following the footprints with her eyes as they head, in a far less roundabout way than she has come, back in the general direction of her camp (you have already guessed what caused those prints and hideous smell, but you are clever and know this story from beginning to inevitable end, whereas to to Kali everything is as new and strange as the first time you heard this tale) "trolls" she has never seen one for herself, but travellers from the North would happily tell you all they know about them in exchange for a pint of ale. Her eyes widened suddenly, as though the weight of what she has found has only just struck her.

She runs, following the tracks that are her only point of reference in the dark, back down the hill, not even bothering to disguise the racket she makes as she crashes through the undergrowth. As she sprints between some trees, which had she been more in control of her senses at the time she would have noticed are bent and buckled as though pushed aside in much the same way you or I might push aside long stalks of grass, she sees a light that she assumes must be her camp.

She charges in and freezes when she finds herself in a camp as she thought, but not the one she wanted. The trolls pause, one of them dangling Gloin over his open mouth, and stare at her. "Stop!" She cries, not really sure of her plan after that.

"Blimey Bert, there's another one" exclaims one of them, nudging the one moments away from consuming the red-headed dwarf. "What're you? Another burglarhobbit?"

"No" she answers, panting from the run "I'm..." she looks to the others for advice on the situation and sees Bilbo willing her on with a pleading look in his eyes "I'm here to stop you from making a terrible mistake" she finds more confidence as the hobbit nods enthusiastically at her. "You mustn't eat that one he's... um... he's..."

"Infected!" Shouts Bilbo, struck with sudden inspiration. The trolls look horrified and Bert drops Gloin back into the writhing pile of dwarves, though Kali seriously doubts that much, if any, of the food they eat is not foul and rotting, judging by the smell from their cave.

"Yes!" She agrees. "I'm a healer and I can confirm that he's ridden with parasites! They all are!"

"Kalliste!" Exclaims Fili with insult in his voice, and a few others voice the same sentiment.

"It's true!" Adds Bilbo, drowning them out, and if the situation weren't so desperate the deeply offended looks on the dwarves faces would have been too much to bear, it takes all her self control not to let out a terrified giggle as it is "they've got worms in their... tubes. Terrible business. I mean, I wouldn't risk it, I really wouldn't"

"We don't have parasites! You have parasites!" Kili shouts, struggling against the bag that has been tied around him. A swift kick from Thorin and they all quickly change their tune, however.

"I've got parasites as big as my arm!" Gloin exclaims

"Mine are the biggest parasites! I've got huge parasites!" Kali has to fight not to laugh, despite everything, at Kili's typically competitive comment.

"We're ridden! Infested! Contagious!" The other dwarves chime, each of them fighting to declare themselves the most unwell.

"What would you have us do then? Let 'em all go?" Asks the troll who had tried to eat Gloin (identified previously as Bert), suspicion in his voice.

"Well..." answers Bilbo

"For the sake of your health..." adds Kali.

" You think I don't know what you're up to? This little ferret and 'is 'ealer are taking us for fools!"

"The dawn will take you all!" From a large rock behind the hideous trio Gandalfs voice resonates impressively, though the effect is rather spoiled by the trolls uninspired last words.

"Who's that?"

"Can we eat him?"

The wizard brings his staff down with a mighty crack upon the rock, splitting it and allowing the dawning light to flood down upon the trolls, who distort horribly as their flesh and bone turn to stone.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I own none of Tolkien's works**

Hello hello beautiful people! A tiny little bit of fluff in this chapter (well, you've waited long enough for it), but mostly a whole lot of running.

And to Galactic Cannibalism with your kind words and frankly awesome username (I'm a bit of an astronomy buff myself) I'm afraid that's for me to know and you to find out, though rest assured I'll make sure we all get a happy ending out of it :)

Also quick question, but has anyone else had trouble with the Manage Stories function today? I've been trying to upload this chapter since 3 this afternoon (UK time), so its been about 8 hours since the problems started. Very strange.

A Tale of Dragonfire

Kali waits with Bilbo and a few others at the mouth of the foul cavern, having flat out refused the invitation to go in (though in truth said invitation was Fili and Kili's and offered only to torment her), and presses a handful of pine needles wrapped in a swatch of cloth to her nostrils, though it does little to help. The smell is so strong this close to the pit that she can taste it in the back of her mouth.

Kili had orginally gone down into the rancid dark hole with the few who braved it but despite his mockery had emerged, barely seconds later, empty of hand and pale of face. Fili had faired slightly, but not much, better than his brother, managing a few minutes down there before fighting his way back into the light and relative fresh air, clutching in his hands an old dwarven short blade and a quiver of arrows which he thrusts at Kali, who takes them with some confusion.

"Here" he growls. "That ridiculous longbow will do you no good in a tight spot. Or without arrows for that matter" she almost makes a rude comment but holds back, noticing how badly that awful place had effected him, not only the smell (which I do not care to even ask you to imagine) but the bones and rotting carcasses piled in mass where ever there was space. Wordlessly she hands him the pine scented bag and he holds it to his face gratefully.

"I'm going to pack up camp" she declares, loud enough for all to hear. "Come with me" quieter and kinder these words are said, and she leads Fili back towards the old farmhouse "it will take more than one pair of hands to pack everything away quickly, and the rest will want to leave this place soon" she looks back at the cave entrance where the others wait and shudders "I know I do"

The pair walk the distance between the two in such silence that, when they arrive back at the camp, only the most timid of scavengers have fled at their approach and a single, brave fox still remains, picking at the leftovers from the dwarves' meal of the night before (their bowls had been left, in some cases, still half full where they had sat and as the smell of dwarf had faded with the night the beasts had been unable to resist the tempting scent of food).

The fox, a young female barely out of adolescence, looks up, muscles bunched and ready to flee, as Fili reaches for a stone from the ground to toss at her. Kali places a restraining hand on his shoulder "Why, princeling?" She mutters, trying to keep her teeth covered so as to not threaten the nervous creature "in this inhospitable land, full of trolls and Mahal only knows what else, this meal could be her last. Do you truly consider it within your rights to deny her it?" Slowly she sits and gestures for him to join her. After a while, the creature goes back to her meal, though she keeps one eye fixed on where they sit.

"Why do you feel such compassion towards a scavenger, friend?" Asks the prince once a few moments have passed in silence, but he finds himself unwilling to spook her also and whispers his question. Kali does not respond to him straight away, preferring instead to watch and think.

When she does answer it is so quiet and slow (as though she were picking her words carefully from a script before her) he barely hears and has to lean closer. "Not scavenger, Fili, opportunist. And I suppose because... because she is not so different from us as you think. The stories my father told of the time after Erebor's loss, of a great people reduced to blacksmiths and coal miners, scavenging amongst the kingdoms of men for a scrap of gold here, a coin or so there, and yet always hanging on, on the very edge of life. Our people were the same as her." There is a great seriousness on her face for a while, and they both watch the fox finish the last of the food in silence before, licking her chops appreciatively, she turns tail and flees into the grassland beyond.

At the creature departure Kali's seriousness evaporates and her usual, carefree nature returns. "Besides, o my dismissive and hasty prince, she was quite a wonder to behold was she not? Anything beautiful that can thrive in the wild deserves to keep doing so, even if that is only my opinion" These words surprise Fili, and he finds himself looking at her in a new light, as though he had never seen her before.

He realises in that moment that she does not seek a home at the end of this quest in the same way he does, whether she believes that to be her motive or not. Perhaps, he muses, she would spend a short time, whether it be weeks, months or years, in the Kingdom of the Lonely Mountain, but eventually she would find her way back to the wilderness. She thrives in the damp forests and quiet hills, and deserves to keep doing so. There is no place for her in a busy city. He realises also that he finds her beautiful.

True, she has no beard and her bloodline is almost certainly unpure (prehaps you know that in the old, dark days - when the world was just beginning - these happenings were more common than not, though perhaps you don't. It is thought, for example, that the line of Isildur shares a common ancestor with that of Lord Elrond. It is only dwarves of the strictest royal bloodlines, such as Thorin and the two princes, who can trace their lineage back, untainted, to the original Seven Fathers of Dwarves) but beautiful for sure, in a rugged, unpolished way that Fili had never thought he would appreciate in a woman. Most of the dwarf-maidens he knows are styled and sleek like cut gems, whereas she is more like the Arkenstone, perfect from the moment it was pulled from the earth. He smiles at her, with warmth not shown before "I find myself inclined to agree with you, Kali"

She nods approvingly at his comment and hesitates as though considering her next words. But whatever she wanted to say must remain unsaid, for through the trees behind them the great racket of many dwarves comes and soon they are surrounded by them, who look from the seated pair to the camp. "What's this?" Says Bofur with humour in his tone "Neither of you have lifted a finger. Did you come back here to sit pretty on the grass while we work?" The other dwarves laugh too and Kali slaps him gently on the arm.

"Hush, Bofur. The young prince and I were nature watching" she smiles with softness he had not seen from her before now. "And we learnt a great deal about the nature of foxes"

"Foxes did she say?" Asks Dwalin of Fili "Nasty scavengers, what on Earth could you have learnt of value from them?"

Fili answers him with a smile and "they're not so bad, friend" before they all get to work clearing away the mess of the night before. In the distance he believes he sees the grass rustling and, for the first time in his life, wishes the little opportunist luck.

Many hands made light work of the packing and after a quick breakfast of dried meat from Kali's pack and slightly stale bread they set off again, by noon finding themselves in the company of one of the strangest men Middle-Earth has to offer.

Dressed all in muddy tones and followed by the smell of the droppings of many different animals, Radagast the Brown is a sight to behold, and his words carry dark weight and great cause for worry, even if Kali and the others don't fully understand their meaning.

"A dark power dwells in Dol Guldor, such as I have never felt before." The company with him shudders at the thought of something that could scare the man so "It is the shadow of an ancient horror. One that can summon the spirits of the dead. I saw him, Gandalf, from out the darkness a necromancer has come." The brown wizard freezes, eyes squeezed shut, as though lost relieving the terror he had experienced. When he comes round a few seconds later he whispers an apology. Their wizard, the grey, offers his friend his pipe before willing him to continue.

"A necromancer. You are sure?" Radagast shows him the contents of a tightly packaged bundle he carries beneath his robe.

"That is not from the world of the living" the forest - wizard answers solemnly. And though they cannot guess what he has seen, as it is blocked from their sight by the other's body, the company see clearly the colour drain from Gandalf's face.

However this new horror cannot be given the time nor attention it merits, for, as if on cue, a howl erupts from behind them, sending their ponies racing for safety. Cursing the flighty nature of the creatures Kali chases hers, managing to snatch the pack she normally carries on her back from the loop on the saddle she had hung it from when the group first encountered Radagast. A little way behind her the others let out cries of shock and she spins, managing somehow to ready her bow and let loose an arrow which skims over the head of the scouting Warg, barely scratching it, before the rest of the dwarves finish it off.

Cursing again, but herself now (as much for losing an arrow as for missing her target, for you will remember how much she coverts each one) she draws her hunting knife from her belt and makes her way back towards the group as another appears and is cut down by one of Kili's arrows. She briefly considers using the short sword Fili gave her, but a novice with a blade is more danger to themself than their enemy and at least with her knife she has some experience, though she would prefer not to have to get close enough to use it. "Don't get a big head, little prince" she mutters to him "on this singular occasion short bow beats long" he smirks and she knows she will never hear the end of it.

A heated dispute between Gandalf and Thorin confirms the worst, the company is being hunted by an Orc pack from the Gundabads, and their best hope now is to run and hide like mice from a cat.

Thankfully, the brown wizard promises the aid of himself and his rabbit drawn sled in drawing the Orc pack away from their path, and so, shouldering what little they have that the ponies did not escape with, there is nothing left for them to do but flee.

When first they set off Kali is near the middle of the group, running alongside Bilbo, Dori, Bifur and Ori, with Gandalf, Thorin, Bofur, Fili and Kili in front of her and the rest behind but quickly finds herself trailing near the back, only just ahead of Bombur with even he catching her quickly.

Though she is faster than any of them the pack she carries tangles with her quiver, throwing her off stride and smacking her painfully in the back with each step, her arrows catch in her hair, loosing it from its bun and, once free, it wraps itself around her longbow, adding to the mix the pain of chunks of hair being ripped from her scalp as the arm holding the bow flails in an attempt to maintain her balance.

For what seems like an age they run without direction or purpose, and the Orcs bear down on them, herding them relentlessly until the others stand, huddled together, near an outcrop of rocks. Kali is no more fifteen or twenty feet away, with a team of three Warg mounted monstrosities chasing her down, but still confident that she can make it to the others in time. But, she realises a moment too late and with horror on her face, the strap of her pack (which she carried only on one shoulder, not having had time to adjust her quiver to accommodate both on her back) has snapped and lies now in the opposite direction of safety.

She looks from the dwarves, most of whom are disappearing behind the rocks while Thorin yells for her and Fili, who still fights the Orcs as they draw closer, to come. She bites the inside of her cheek hard, trying to judge the distance between the two points. Finally, decision made, she drops her bow and knife and sprints back towards the Wargs as fast as her aching legs will allow. She can still hear Thorin screaming his frustrations and curses at her but she is close now, only a few strides away. But the hunters draw ever closer and her certainty begins to waver.

She collects the bag in one quick sweeping motion and, staring down the snout of the closest Warg, turns and sprints back. Behind her she hears a crash and turns her head briefly to see that the beast has fallen, courtesy of one of Kili's arrows. She raises her hand to him in thanks as he too disappears behind the rocks.

She collects her bow and knife from where she abandoned them and, with a fresh burst of speed, closes the distance between her and Thorin. The dwarf-king grabs her shoulder, all but tossing her down the hidden crevice at the base of the rock, following after her with anger in his eyes. The fall knocks the wind from her lungs and the bundles from her pack, one of which Thorin picks up as the others help her to her feet.

He sniffs it and throws it back down with distain. "Herbs?" There is thinly veiled rage in his voice "you endangered your life, and mine, for a bag of spices? Are you so spoiled that underseasoned meals are a travesty for you?" Kali tries her best to keep the insult from her voice as she wheezes her answer.

"My lord, these are medical supplies" she manages and, though he has turned away from her as the sound of hoof beats and hunting horns fill the air above and an Orc corpse tumbles through the opening, impaled with an elvish arrow, she is fairly sure he heard.

After a while the sounds above die away. Fili helps her collect her herbs from where they have scattered across the cave floor, muttering all the time about how foolish her actions were to which she sharply replies, for all to hear, "No more foolish than crossing into the Wilds with no medicine at all" and, although his does not grumbling cease, she hears no more complaints from him or any other for that matter.

With meagre wits and meagre possessions gathered the troop continue along the only path they can, through the cave and towards the breeze.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hobbit**

Hello everyone! Well, its been a hectic few days no question there. We've had builders in my pub since the 2 of January so of course I've had to be there every day since my boss just "happened" to take some time off at this precise moment. I haven't had a great deal of time to write this chapter, so it is unbelievably subpar. On the plus side though we found some great stuff while ripping down walls (turns out the building is a lot older than we thought, possibly Victorian, we've emailed the city council to see what they can dig up and are waiting for a reply). We found a dumbwaiter behind some kitchen cabinets and fixed it up, now we can send cheese sandwiches and cups of tea down to the bar whenever we want! My job just became about 20x more fun, and I was already convinced I have the best job in the world! Anyway, sorry to make everyone wait but I'm back now :)

A Tale of Dragonfire

"Missing home yet, little hobbit?" The question is sprung on Bilbo quite by surprise as they sit together by a fountain in the Last Homely House, listening to the others laugh around them. Kali is rubbing oil into the blade of the short sword Fili gave her, readying it for sharpening, and half listens to the frivolities with a smile on her face while Bilbo at first tries to deny her question, but in the face of her unwavering smile finally answers truthfully.

"Yes, I am" he returns her smile will a little, nervous one. "There's no use in denying it, is there?"

"Not really" she answers softly. "If it makes you feel any better tiny one, I too am feeling a yearning for home" he looks at her with surprise while she runs a sharpening stone up the blade with a smooth, curving motion.

"I thought Erebor was your home?" At this she laughs and pushes him gently.

"Just how old do you think I am, mister Baggins? The Lonely Mountain was lost over a century ago. I was born in the world of men, and know about as much about those great halls and mines as you do" Bilbo watches her for a while, wondering if she would talk again and whether he should perhaps he should learn to tend his little elven blade.

"No, perhaps in time Erebor will become a home for me," she continues eventually, when the blade is done "but for now there is a small house less than half a mile North from the East - West road, about an hours journey on foot East of Bree, where sweet herbs grow and there is always a fire lit. That is home"

Bilbo, ever curious about things he has not experienced (which, bless his kind soul, is most of life), encourages her to tell him more, of her home and the herbs she grows. Those stories of course lead on to tales of deer hunts and carp fishing and long winter nights racing against wolves to track wild boar and, eventually, so much he pushes her for details that even she, fond of story telling and enjoying the way he exclaims in all the right places (for hobbits love nothing more than a good tale and are well versed in how to listen to them), laughs and begs him to give her tongue a rest.

The little hobbit looks down at his feet, afraid that he may have annoyed her just as he thought he was making a friend within the company, and so dejected he looks that Kali can't help but ruffle the curls on his head and say "tell me now about your home, little friend". The little hobbit perks up immediately at this, and it becomes her turn to listen as he tells her about his little house and the things he plans to do when he returns to it. She smiles, nods and begins carefully tending to the arrows Fili gave her, checking them for damage and half listening to Bilbo, who doesn't seem to care so much whether she listens or not, as more than anything he just seems to desire to talk out loud with no-one mocking him.

A few of the two dozen have been distorted and swelled by water damage from the trolls' lair, and Kali carefully removes the useless wooden shafts, storing the metal heads in a side pocket of her pack to be repaired when she has time. So engrossed she is in her work that she doesn't notice when the hobbit stops talking and, once she is done, looks up with surprise to see the others quickly packing away to leave. She shrugs, sure someone will explain everything to her soon enough, and shoulders her pack, grabbing an apple from the nearby table for the journey.

The company makes their way quietly from the Secret Valley, heading towards the hostile peaks in the distance. Above the Misty Mountains a fierce storm is brewing but they push on regardless, reaching the moutain pass by early afternoon.

Bilbo is on edge and Kali too feels nervous, the lack of the wizard's calming presence weighing heavily on their minds, but both know better than to question the king, as the foul temper he has carried since the day before still permeates the air around him, dragging down with him the mood of the whole group.

By the time they reach the high and perilous path (Thorin was well aware of the rumours of goblin raids on the safer, more well used road and chose this route in accordance) the storm has hit with a force none of them have ever seen before. Kali is almost sure she sees great, lumbering shapes moving in the haze but dismisses them, instead concentrating on where she places her feet on the slippery rock.

Like this they push on, carefully and in complete silence, until a rock, unseen by any, barrels towards them through the heavy rain. Stricking the mountain with tremendous force, it completely destroys a section of the mountainside above, bringing debris raining down upon them. Kali jumps with shock, barely clinging to the sodden rock and the cries of the others confirm that what happened was no accident. The Stone Giants (which Kali and no doubt a few of the others thought of as only a legend) are doing battle, and the company has wandered straight into their path.

Beneath them their path trembles and cracks, simultaneously revealing itself to be the legs of another giant and splitting the group into two, Kali on the left with Thorin and a few others and the rest, including Fili and Bilbo, on the right. The great stone man lurches forward and, in the confusion and terror that follows, Kali finds herself clinging desperately to the king as her feet slip and her body lunges towards the deep crevasse below.

To Kali's immense surprise, once Thorin had swung her back onto the narrow shelf he begrudgingly allows her to continue to keep her hold on him, though in truth she would have been unable to loosen her grip in that moment even if he had forced her.

The giant, who has not noticed his tiny clingers-on, stumbles from a punch from his opponent which sends shock waves through his legs, shaking the group to their core, and as he does his left leg passes close enough to the nearby mountainside for Thorin, dragging a still firmly attached Kali behind him, and the others to race across to the relative safety of the hopefully not living pathway.

The other half of the group, those stranded on the giants right leg, fare less well as the giant rights himself and returns his foes blow with an earth shattering one of his own. Kali and the rest can only watch in horror as the giants exchange blow after blow, before another appears and, with the throw of another great rock, knocks the head from the shoulders of the giant that carries their friends. He stumbles, bending at his enormous craggy knees, and crashes forwards against the path ahead of them before falling down into the great canyon below.

The dwarves, Kali finally managing to release her grip on the king, rush forward, both desperate and unwilling to know the fate of their kinsmen. Up above, around a sharp outcrop of rock and to the relief of everyone, the others lie sprawled on a wide ledge at the mouth of a cave.

After a brief but joyous reunion one among them finally collects himself enough to notice that they are one short and a mad scramble finds Bilbo hanging from his finger tips, raw terror in his eyes, from the edge of the cliff. Kali presses herself against the wet rock, offering, as many others do, her hand to the hobbit, but despite their best efforts he remains just out of reach and she finds herself cursing the grey wizard for his absence, since he could have easily reached out and snatched up the hobbit from where he hangs.

Thorin, sick and tired as he probably is at this point of saving those he deems to be the "least useful" of his company, swings down over the edge and hurls Bilbo into the waiting hands above before allowing himself to be pulled up behind. There is rage in his eyes, and Kali remembers with shame the way she clung to him only moments before. His next words serve only to cut that shame deeper into her heart "they should never have come, either of them. They have no place amongst us."


End file.
